Dragon Age Shorts
by ColeBlackblood
Summary: A series of mini-fics I'm writing for fun involving the characters of Dragon Age. Rating subject to change - will warn if necessary.
1. Hair

**AN:** Leliana/Katalia with Josephine commentary. Leliana has problems with her lover's hair. **  
**

 _ **~I…have I ever told you I really like the way you wear your hair?~**_

"We need to do something about your hair." Leliana suddenly remarked, eyeing her lover's head critically. Seated beside her in Skyhold's garden, Katalia looked both confused and entertained.

"Oh? If memory serves, my hair was one of the first things which drew you to me." Her words were teasing, and a touch fond. Leliana's cheeks pinked from the memory. It admittedly had not been one of her more articulate moments, struggling to find a way to compliment the moody Dalish in a way that wouldn't be seen as offensive or too forward, while at the same time struggling with her feelings for the other woman.

"That was then." She retorted. Reaching out, she took some of the long, silver strands between her fingers, grimacing and wrinkling her nose as she rubbed slightly. "Now it's… _oily_ and looks as if you cut it with a knife."

"I did, actually. There weren't many mirrors in the Deep Roads. Or sources of water." Katalia reminded her. She didn't seem offended by her lover's reaction, only amused.

"Well you're not in the Deep Roads anymore, and I refuse to let you be seen like this." Leliana stood up, a determined look in her eyes. "Come on." She started walking.

As Katalia watched her, slowly standing up herself, she thought back to how ten years ago, nobody – especially not a human – would have been able to order her about as Leliana did. ' _I suppose this is what love does. And we're not even married._ ' She mused, and ran to catch up.

The Skyhold baths were situated beneath the great fortress itself. Large squared basins were built into the stone structure, with rune-heated water filling them, casting a light fog of steam about the torch-lit room. The pair stripped down and Katalia slid into the water, groaning softly as the heat encased her body.

"I'll admit this is slightly better than a river." Katalia confessed, leaning back against the edge of the bath. "Though you may have to drag me out, later." Leliana giggled and slipped in beside her, momentarily distracting the elf as condensation formed against her fair skin.

"I'm glad you approve." She noticed her girlfriend's staring and purposely arched her back in the guise of a stretch, pushing her chest out. Katalia's teeth bared in a reflexive grin at the gesture.

"That's not the only thing I approve of." She informed her, suddenly moving to stand in front of Leliana. One long leg shifted between the bard's thighs, providing a firm pressure that made the red head's lashes flutter with pleasure, and her lips to part in a gasp.

"Oh?" She managed, the word sounding more like a moan than a question. Smirking, Katalia ducked her head slightly to kiss her.

"Leliana?" Katalia's face immediately flushed bright red as a new voice echoed the room. She tried to move away, only to be stopped by Leliana's hands, which firmly gripped her arms, her panicked look in response thoroughly ignored.

"Over here, Josie!"

The Antivan Ambassador made her way over to their pool, a small woven basket in her hands. She looked slightly startled at the position they were in, but other than her cheeks darkening and a slight smile, she kept her composure well.

"I am not interrupting anything, am I?" She gave a slight bow in deference to Katalia. "Milady."

"Ambassador." The Dalish hero returned. She swore she could feel her ears burning, and not from the water. Leliana giggled at her discomfort.

"You're just in time to help, actually. Care to join us?" She gestured with one hand, and Katalia took the opportunity to duck deeper into the water, down to her chin.

"Oh, I would hate to intrude."

"Nonsense, neither Katalia nor I mind. Right, _mon coeur_?"

" _Mythal ma las'suledin_." She grant me strength.

"Well, if you insist." Katalia turned away as Josephine undressed, though noticed with slight jealousy that Leliana did not. Then again, she had claimed them old friends. And Leliana was far less conservative in ways that Katalia was.

"What's in the basket?" She asked, at last deeming it safe to turn around. She was suddenly grateful the water wasn't very clear. Leliana reached in and retrieved a few bottles, and some glass vials. Uncorking one, a sweet, floral scent emitted into the air.

"This," The Spymaster raised the vial. "is one of the things which will help us fix that hair of yours." She pointed the spot before her. "Now come here."

Katalia eyed her wearily, but obeyed. "I get to keep my braids." She stated, turning her back to the other women.

"Of course." Leliana agreed. Katalia had told her of the importance the twin braids on either side of her face were. Not merely fashion, she had adopted the look after her mother, whom she had never met. She had to beg Ashalle – her mother's sister, and the woman whom had raised her – for days before she agreed to show her how, and had continued doing so ever since. Even on the days she allowed Leliana to brush and toy with her hair, she still insisted on returning to the style once all was done. The same would be expected today, as she carefully removed the worn string and set it aside, running her fingers through the wet hair a bit.

"Cold!" Josephine laughed beside them as Katalia jumped, accepted the vial as Leliana passed it over and applying the substance to her own hair. As the red head's nimble fingers worked it into a lather, she started to relax, enjoying the sensation.

"Duck under." Leliana ordered, and she obeyed, reaching up to shake out the remains of the soap. Resurfacing, she was surprised to see Leliana retrieving another bottle.

"There's more?" She hummed an affirmative.

"The first was to clean you up a bit. This will help with the oil." _Orlesians…_ She rolled her eyes, but submitted to another round of washing and rinsing. Bringing a hand to her damp locks, she had to admit they _did_ feel better than they had before.

"Now for your body." Leliana's tone and grin were far too mischievous. Katalia blushed to the tips of her ears, and quickly moved to the other side of the bath.

"I can do that myself!" She tried to ignore the laughter of the other two.

An hour later, Katalia examined herself in the mirror within Josephine's quarters. Off to the side, the Ambassador stood proudly, a set of scissors and a comb in her hands. She had claimed to help cut her sister's hair while growing up, and had proven decent enough. Now the long, silver locks were at least even, and the braids re-done, albeit with bright blue string rather than the worn bits she had used before. Leliana had put her foot down on that, at least.

" _Mas serannas,_ Lady Montilyet. It looks much better." She looked to the door just as Leliana arrived, having had to tend to her Spymaster duties. "What do you think, _ma vhenan_?"

Leliana smirked, and moved to wrap her arms around the shorter girl's waist, pulling her into a kiss. "Much better. Now you look more like a Hero, and less like some wild beast."

Katalia growled playfully. "A beast, am I?" She made to grab at the bard, who laughed and ducked from her grasp. "Don't you run from me! I'll show you a true beast!" The lovers escaped the room at a mock-run while Josephine remained behind, shaking her head and smiling. It was good to see that love still existed, even in such times of strife.


	2. Locked Out

**AN: Aaren is an OC of mine - an orphan/thief turned smuggler with past ties to Varric. Whether they have a relationship or not depends on who you ask... and if they feel like having fun with it or not. Talia is my F!Trevelyan Inquisitor  
**

 _ **Snap!**_

"Maker's giant blue balls!" Some distance away, Talia snorted, clamping a hand over her mouth. Aaren just growled in frustration, tossing the broken lock picks on the ground – next to the three other pairs she'd snapped on this door. She'd been working on it for about thirty minutes now – not that anyone was keeping count – and they were no closer to entering the cavern than they had been from the beginning.

"Weren't you a thief once?" Varric suddenly asked, leaning on a nearby rock.

"Shut up, Varric!" She snapped back. A moment, then,

"Andraste's divine ass!" Another set of picks hit the dirt. Varric shared an amused look with Iron Bull.

"Want some help?" The dwarf offered.

" **Shut up** , Varric!"

An awkward silence descended over the party. After a while, Solas tentatively spoke up.

"Perhaps we should let Varric attempt-"

 _ **BAM! CRACK!**_

The cavern door swung on its hinges, splintered wood falling to the ground. Aaren straightened up, breathing hard and doing her best to ignore the sudden throb of pain lacing up her right leg.

"THERE! IT'S OPEN!" She announced, a look of pure frustration and rage contorting her features. The group said nothing, merely watched in stunned silence as she stormed inside, readying her blade. Finally, Bull spoke up.

" _Hot._ "


	3. Never Knew You Wanted

**DA Shorts - Never Knew You Wanted**

All had fallen quiet amongst Skyhold, as the sun disappeared in the sky and the glow of the moon took its place. Deep within the recesses of the stronghold, Varric lay under the covers of his bed, propped up by his pillow. He looked up as the door to his room creaked open, slowly opening just enough for someone to slip in. Turning, the intruder shut it just as slowly, breathing out a sigh of relief when it didn't slam. Varric chuckled.

"I was beginning to wonder if you'd actually show, Pup." Aaren glared at him, her frown making the little scar on her upper lip seem more prominent.

"Shut it." She strode over, trying to seem less embarrassed than she was, which only made Varric smirk wider. Something formed an outline beneath her night shirt, the dwarf noticed. "I think your Lady Seeker is still having me on watch. Guards took forever to leave."

"That's just her way of being friendly. Now, what's under the shirt?" Aaren paused, suddenly smirking as well.

"Varric Tethras, are you flirting with me?" He rolled his eyes.

"Keep pushing it, Pup, and you can find someone else to share a bed with tonight."

"You're just encouraging me at this point." She sighed. "Fine, sorry. Let's get this over with, I don't know how long it'll take for the guards to track me down again." Pulling back the blankets, she slid the object from her shirt and handed it over, before slipping into bed beside him. One of his arms came around her shoulders, while she moved to rest her head against the infamous chest hair, slinging an arm around his stomach.

"Truth be told, I'd never had guessed that _this_ is what you wanted." He remarked teasingly.

"Shorty…" Knowing full well what the nickname implied, Varric cracked open the book and cleared his throat.

"Hard in Hightown, Chapter One. They say coin never sleeps, but anyone who's walked the patrol of Hightown market at midnight might disagree…" As his deep voice read from the infamous serial, the smuggler in his arms grew more and more relaxed, until her eyes slid shut, falling asleep right in his arms. Smiling now, Varric shut the book and set it aside, casting a final look at the human woman beside him.

"Sleep tight, Aaren." His eyes shut.

 **AN:** That's all for now! Review and feel free to let me know if there's something/someone you'd like to see.


	4. Yield

"You want me to what?" Elena's dark brows nearly concealed themselves in her hairline. She shifted her weight, leaning away from the window at her side. Surely the mountain winds had caused her to mishear something. Across from her, seated behind her enormous desk – seriously, were the dwarves attempting to overcompensate when they built the thing? – Josephine crossed her arms. Her mouth was set in a determined line, one Elena had gotten to know all too well.

"I want you to spar with me." Elena ran a hand through her hair, finding resistance where the braid she had put it in began.

"Right, that's what I thought you said." Unable to think of a tactful way to ask, she blurted out "Why?"

"Nearly everyone within the Inquisition has some fighting skill. Including the advisors." Before Elena could interrupt, Josephine met her gaze, the look alone silencing her. "I am not asking you to take me dragon hunting, Elena, or to join you in battle. All I ask is for a little… physical training." A smile curled the Antivan ambassador's lips, and she rose from her seat, walking around the desk to stand before her lover. Tanned fingers gently stroked her cheek, firmed only slightly from the hours spent writing each day.

"Besides," Her voice dropped in pitch, her accent coming through more thickly. Elena's breath caught in her throat. "You never questioned physical activity with me before."

It took a few moments before the former Templar found her voice. "True."

"Good!" The hand disappeared, leaving Elena missing the touch while Josephine turned back to the documents on her desk. "Then, I will see you in the courtyard this afternoon."

Blinking and slightly confused, but with a certainty that she'd just been played like Leliana's lute, Elena turned and left the office.

' _What did I just agree to?_ ' She wondered.

* * *

Hours later, two figures grappled in the dirt, purposely situating themselves out of the way of Cullen's recruits as they trained. As one knocked the other to the ground, she wasted no time in pressing her heel into the small of her opponent's back, a strong grip wrenching an arm painfully up against her spine.

"Yield!" Elena gasped, unable to squirm free of the hold she'd been placed in. Josephine laughed triumphantly and released her. She stood to the side, grinning as Elena sat up and rolled her shoulder with a wince.

"How am I doing, _Ser Trevelyan_?" Josephine teased, the title practically dripping from her lips.

Elena had spent the hours before the session worrying about how she was going to handle sparring with her lover. Josephine herself was a force to be reckoned with, and although she swore Leliana had agreed to forego any torture should she end up bruised (or otherwise harmed), the eldest Trevelyan couldn't shake the worry she felt at the mere **thought** of causing harm to her.

Oh, what a fool she had been.

Josephine had shown up in a tunic shirt, pants, and boots – her dress wasn't the best thing to get dirty in, after all – and if that sight alone hadn't been enough to throw Elena off her game, the force of her first hit had done the job. She subconsciously reached down to her still-tender ribs, certain they'd be bruised by tomorrow. Josephine obviously had none of the worries her girlfriend shared, given how she seemed to give no thought to not only serving Elena's ass to her on a silver platter, but also informing her that – between her elder brothers and bardic training – she was no stranger to fighting dirty if needed be.

"Quite well, I think." Elena clambered to her feet. "Perhaps we should set you up with a new sparring partner. Like the Iron Bull."

Josephine's laugh had her smiling, but one stubborn thought nudged at the back of her mind: If she didn't muster the courage to fight back soon, she was going to be in for it tomorrow.


End file.
